Bitter End
by saichanlovestoad
Summary: Oneshot. After many years, Chucky gets his hands on the one that got away, Andy Barclay, for one last round of playtime. As he said, they're friends to the end and this is most definitely the end.


A/N- I do not own any of these characters. But I wish I did.

I write this oneshot for only one reason. I really, really, really, _really_ wanted Chucky to kill Andy in Child's Play 3. I mean, I was sick with anticipation waiting for him to finally get to murder that stupid brat. And he didn't get to. So, as I'm told I do great murder scenes and it is the speciality I'm publishing in my hopefully soon to be up coming novels, I decided to give my beloved Charles Lee Ray his spotlight.

So, here's the long awaited death of Andy Barclay.

Enjoy. Love, Sai-Chan.

* * *

There was something to be said about fate, he knew, as he stood over that terrified form. Those wide brown eyes took in the cement walls of the cellar with bloodied chains hooked into the grey slabs. There was blood splashed on everything. Every drop of it slowly penetrated those eyes, those innocent eyes, before the boy jerked back to him. He stood before him, unable to contain the smile on his face, as he stepped into the blinking light of the single bulb. The light shivered as it threatened to die, perilously hanging over the boy's head. The brown orbs expanded that much more as he struggled against the straps at every major joint. His movements were of no use, he knew, for those leather strips held him tightly against the metal chair dead bolted to the floor. All that child could do was stare in that petrified way as his boots clinked softly on the cracked cement. The brown spheres met his livid blue ones and they both knew there was no reason for introductions. Despite having not seen one another in years, many, many years, they saw those eyes that had plagued their individual inner minds, and they knew.

Chucky Ray stood before Andy Barclay for the first time in over a decade, and they knew it instantly. The boy had grown into a slender, but strapping young man still baring short brown hair and the puppy dog eyes of a traumatized child. The former doll had gotten his hands on a nearly lookalike body with flyaway orange red hair and murderous blue eyes. They faced off as they always had, and never had, in that dingy room underneath an abandoned house at the end of a deserted neighborhood, and knew this was the bitter end.

Since their original meeting, Chucky had been attempting to murder Andy for his body to put his own soul inside it and continue to live. Yet, the boy had always managed to kill him before that was possible. Everything he tried failed, for the doll body he'd been trapped in had failed to give him the edge he needed to slaughter this child. Now that his wife had kidnaped this former wanderer to house his soul, the murderer had no reason to find this boy. He no longer needed his body. However, for all the deaths, all the aggravation, he had sworn that if he ever found him, he'd kill him. He finally had the advantage he'd been looking for during all those wasted days attempting to murder the Barclay boy. He swore to kill him if he ever crossed paths with him again.

That promise had trickled away as the months drifted by. Then as fate had put them together in the beginning, it again placed them side by side. A chance meeting, as it had been all those years ago. A pass on the street, a flicker of familiar eyes and a smile that had never faded in his mind, and Chucky knew he had wound up in the same town as his former victim. Nothing, not even a wife and two kids, could stop him from it. He had to kill the one that had gotten away. There had been no plan behind it. He'd reached back, grabbed that arm, and slammed him into the nearest building. The collision had instantly knocked Andy unconscious, therefore giving Chucky enough time to restrain him and get some toys for what promised to be a frightful night. Now the boy was awake and they were face to face once more.

" Hi, Andy," he whispered in a low voice that made the other choke and cough, his eyes consuming most of his face. Whatever doubts he'd had, if there had been any, vanished at the sound of the man who'd tried to kill him no less then two dozen times. Chucky pushed their foreheads together, his smile contorting his fair features to that of the monster he was inside. Andy's breathing grew that much more shallow, " Long time no see, right? Did you miss me?"

" Y-you..."

" That's right," he cooed out, running his index finger over that smooth skin. Those brown eyes watched that pale finger slide from his eye to his throat, " I told you. Friends to the end, Andy. Friends to the bitter fucking end,"

His hand gripped that throat as he hissed out the last bit. A squeak rang out in the still silence of the room as his fingers sank into the pearly white flesh. The muscles clenched and then the redhead smiled wider. The malice in his light blue eyes was enough to make tears form in the younger's eyes. Each one, however, only made the killer smile until it hurt. He cupped that face with both hands, dropping down until he was seated in the shaking lap of that child. He eased his slender frame against the other's as he quivered from pent up laughter. Andy began to shake his head in disbelief, in shock, in fear, as he mouthed the word 'no' over and over. Fear, though, had stolen his voice and he was left speechless. That suited Chuck just fine as he pushed his cheek against Andy's. His arms wrapped around the skull he longed to break, his fingers smoothing through that fluffy hair. He felt hot tears against his skin. The flames of Hell began to pour over his blood as he muttered into that ear the words only they shared in the depraved web of fated meetings.

" I promised, Andy, I promised. Friends to the end," he nuzzled the nook of that perfectly bruised neckline as two eyes stared at him, " But it's the end now, Andy. Now it's payback... payback for everything... no more mister good guy... it's playtime now, Andy... so... let's play,"

" God help me... you're insane," that weak voice croaked as tears ran down that face. The older chuckled into the silky skin as his hands wound themselves into the tangled hair, " Insane... fucking insane..."

" That's right! Fucking insane!" Chucky repeated, jerking the boy's head backwards so hard, the bone cracked against the metal. Andy's eyes widened as much as they could as his body jolted against the restraints. The redhead grinned down at him, rising up until he was standing over him, holding his head back with one hand. The other reached back and slowly pulled the knife from his belt loop. The blade was freshly sharpened and caught in the light as he pushed the tip into his victim's cheek, " And you're about to find out just how fucking insane I am, you motherfucking son of a bitch... all these years... Andy... all those times... now it's your turn... your turn, asshole..."

The blade dug in and red blossomed on white as the first scream rang out. The sound bounced off the walls as Chucky began to laugh. The manic laughter blended with the gasping so wonderfully that the killer could only laugh harder as Andy sobbed. Blood oozed down his cheek until it pooled in the hollow of his throat. The cut deformed his pretty face in it's length and depth, the first cut to this mutilation. A brown gem peered down at it as the killer drew his finger over it. Pain contorted his face as he cried out for him to stop. The cry, it exploded over Chuck's head. The sound was magical. He laughed harder still, plunging his thumb through the layers of skin and into that face. The muscles spasmed against his skin as Andy threw back his head and shrieked. His finger was pulled from the wound. The blood poured down harder as the boy desperately tried to move his arm up to cover the hole. Chucky merely licked the blood from his hand as he twirled the knife in between his fingers.

The hilt touched his palm and he slammed the blade into Andy's leg.

The boy screamed loud enough to drown out the laughter as Chucky hugged himself, pointing at the agonized look on that once arrogant, defiant face. Two hands jumped against the straps as Andy shrieked swear words he'd learned from his Good Guy doll next to two decades beforehand. As his fingers gripped the arm rests, a scarred hand grasped his face. They stared at one another before the murderer smiled, let go, and drew back in an unsteady fashion. Blood leaked into a small puddle as he drifted away, slipping into the darkness. The boy demanded that he come back, although his once angry shouts shook as his body did. He tried to maintain that he could escape, probably to avoid the possibility of losing his mind much like his enemy had. Yet, those words of confidence only revealed how deliciously terrified he truly was. Still, he continued to demand to know what the other was doing in the darkness, as he always had.

When the redhead stepped back into the light, though, those demands disappeared. The notorious smile of a thorough bred serial killer was imposed on those lips, Satan's hell fire dancing behind the blue of his eyes. In one hand was a lighter. In the other was a candle of white wax. There was a thick wick in the center of that candle. Chuck flipped the lighter open so that a burst of flame lit the wick. Then he eased himself into Andy's lap, holding the candle so that it was between the two of them, but out of the boy's range of motion limited only to his head. The lighter was pushed into the younger's pocket as the older slowly turned the taper.

" You remember how you fucking melted me that second to last time, Andy? Remember, don't you? At the toy factory?" he whispered in a sharp tone. Andy swallowed as he shivered, unable to take his eyes off the pool of hot wax, " Well... now it's your turn, bitch,"

Turning the candle over, he poured the melted liquid over one of Andy's arms. The flesh burned as he threw back his head and shrieked while Chuck smiled sickly, pulling out his lighter. He flicked it open and casually held it over the wax hardening on the boy's arm. As laughter began to trickle out around them, the killer moved the flame over the wax in a playful motion. The wax thus remained hot as it began to melt his flesh. The shrieking shifted into cries for mercy as Andy jerked and jolted against the straps so that the leather cut into his flesh. Blood splattered Chucky's face as he roared with laughter so evil, it alone was a sin. Cuss words floated into the mix and he grabbed Andy's face. His fingers squeezed tight enough to force that mouth open.

" Shut it, fucker. Don't make me cut yer tongue out," he threatened in a giddy voice, fingering the knife jutting out of his leg. A tear ran over his knuckles, " Don't cry, Andy. We're just getting started, asshole,"

" You're the... asshole... _Charles_,"

The knife was ripped from his leg and the blade sliced from one cheek to the other, cutting his face and tongue in one thick line. Then the blade was smashed back into his thigh, a new hole cutting into his flesh. Blood poured down as he coughed and choked, Chucky letting go and jerking away. His boots thumped on the floor as he shook from head to toe. His smile vanished as Andy spat blood at his feet. He couldn't speak, but he could spit. Before he could do it, again, however, he realized how unstable his former methodical killer was. Chuck's eyes narrowed to points as he stepped forward. Then his hand yanked back, both eyes widening with what could only be described as utter and complete rage.

Andy's head flew to the side as Chucky's fist slammed into it. Blood exploded from the boy's mouth as he gasped out, staring as that hand was jerked back. Knuckle connected with bone on the other side of his face. The younger's head cracked into the metal behind his neck. A low moan was admitted as the older screamed in fury. A hand grabbed a hand full of Andy's hair as the other crushed his nose. The killer slammed his fist repeatedly into that bloodied face, his punches growing steadily more wild. He cracked him in the face, neck, and shoulders as he incoherently shrieked swear words. Then he released him, as suddenly as he'd grabbed hold of him.

Andy spat blood out, his body shaking violently as the cuts and wounds bled freely. One eye was swollen shut. The other frantically searched for the redhead's hands. They were held limply at his side as Chuck stared at him with a face so close to death, the boy wasn't sure he'd fully been brought back. He stood still, before a tremor went over his body. His fists tightened, his eyes expanded dramatically, and then the fingers of one hand were again holding onto those brown locks. He snapped his head backwards and their eyes met.

" Do you have any fucking idea what I've been through, trying to get a body, Andy? Do you? Do you?!" he breathed into his ear, his grip growing firmer. The boy couldn't speak, so he remained quiet and just silently watched in horror as those blue eyes glazed over in remembrance. Then that telltale fury fell over them, " DO YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!"

His right hand fastened around the hilt of the knife as Andy choked on a scream, a bellow, for mercy. His one good eye grew painfully wide as he felt the blade ripping out. There was no mercy, though, in those demonic eyes, in that furious face. Chuck howled with laughter as he brought the knife back, his all time favorite weapon. The image that had haunted the boy's dreams for years flashed before him. Then white exploded into his head as the blade was brought crashing down into his shoulder. Blood splashed into the killer's face as his laughter rang out, as though possessed to do so.

Then, there was a snap behind Chucky's eyes. Everything that he'd been through, all the agony, all the deaths, all the wasted days, poured into his head so fast, he felt blinded for a second. His fingers gripped the handle of the blade as he shook with hysteria. Andy's choked cry echoed as all the images of those deaths broke loose in the killer's skull. Fire raced over his blood as that dam finally broke once and for all. Chuck tore the knife out of that shoulder, his hand shaking badly as he laughed. Andy's blood pooled under the chair, his body pressed on the restraints, but there was nothing he could do this time. The redhead knew that as he raised the knife for what must of been the millionth time towards this one person. He could almost feel the gunshots, the burning, the wax, the blades, everything that had ripped him to shreds all those years ago. He felt that, felt his mind numbing rage, and there truly was nothing else. This was it. This was what he'd been waiting for all his life and all he could do was roar with laughter as that one brown gem filled with understanding and tears that didn't matter, never mattered.

Like a gun going off, it was over. There was no more pain. There was no more restraint. There was nothing but the mania that had always consumed him. A scream, louder then death itself, rang out above the laughter, completely filling the air with it's desperate agony.

The knife slammed into Andy's chest, then was ripped out again. Chucky's hand held onto that skull so tightly, he could feel blood around his nails. Yet, all he could see was the bursts of red as the blade crashed into that jerking body. The knife plunged into his stomach, his chest, his neck, his legs, even his arms until the flesh was hacked off. Blood splattered on the ground as muscles were severed and ligaments snapped. The pressure shattered bones, causing one arm to crack and fall limply as that form twisted against straps that cut deeper and deeper still into torn and broken flesh. A rib jutted through the skin as it splinted from the metal. A leg cracked and broke as a spasm smashed it into a strap that would not give. Strips of flesh were jerked away from the body as Andy's head was released. Chucky gripped slabs of skin and tore them away with a loud sucking sound. Red poured onto the floor, flew across his face, as he brought that knife repeatedly down into that deformed, mutilated boy's body.

He slashed his throat, then smashed the blade down into his throat at an angle. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he dragged that knife from his broken collar bone to his sticky waist. Swaying with laughter, he jerked the point out and thrust his hand inside the gaping hole that had once been the one who got away. He yanked all the organs out, throwing them violently onto the ground where they burst on contact. The skin hung loosely around the hole as Chuck let the knife fall to the ground. It clattered there loudly as the laughter cut like a knife. Blood dripped in fat drops into the puddle spreading slowly over the cement. All was still as the killer stared at the remains, what was left of them.

Broken bones, slick with blood, jutted out of torn and ripped flesh that had been jerked away. An unrecognizable face with one brown eye looked out at him from countless slices. The head laid to the side, against the metal, as the lifeless form slumped against the red restraints cutting into the bleeding skin. A large hole inside the skinned body where no organs laid. All of it was drenched in sticky blood that was everywhere, casting it all in a red haze that covered up the stark terror of a gruesome murder while at the same time heightening that very fear.

That body could have been anyone, it was so destroyed. However, it wasn't. It was little Andy Barclay, dead after so many years. Looking over that amount of mutilation that wasn't customary of his victims, the killer knew it had to be. He saw that brown eye in all the red and he knew. He'd always know that look, that horrified look he'd dreamt about for so long. Andy was dead. His body shook as his blue eyes took in every slash, every tossed away bit, and all he could do was drop to his knees. A smile formed on his lips as he began to laugh. That laughter consumed him, rebounding off the quiet and still walls of the stained room. He'd finally done it. He'd finally murdered the one that got away. Andy Barclay was dead.

And all Chucky could do was laugh in a bout of numb hysteria explained only by years of repressed rage after having been tormented so by one small boy who'd managed to entirely destroy all of what had been his life. Laugh as he collapsed in a pool of warm, sticky blood, hugging himself tightly in that cold cellar in that abandoned house, alone, completely and utterly beside himself with insanity.

Yes, there was something to be said about fate.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
